


Of Wolves and Shattered Shields

by Claire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-21 20:42:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2481737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claire/pseuds/Claire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Peter is a prince, and Chris is not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Wolves and Shattered Shields

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a quote from Aragorn's speech before the Battle of the Morannon in _LotR: The Return of the King_.
> 
> This started out as a thought I typed up on Tumblr, and by the time I'd finished the post, it had pretty much developed into this. Basically, I word splurged Medieval!AU onto the screen and am entirely unapologetic about that.

The Rite has been around ever since the Hales have been the ruling family of Beacon Hills. Longer, even. There are stories of how it started. Legends of ancient kings and queens who wanted their children to be introduced into the world of pleasure in the best way possible. Legends of how it began only with the royal families, then spread to include the nobles, and then to everyone.

And now there is a gathering once a quarter, where the entire town comes together for the Rite and the Feast. Where those who have reached the age of majority can chose someone to spend their first night with. Where offers are made, and accepted or rejected.

(The offers are always accepted. The Rite has evolved over the years so that the actual approach is done earlier, by letter or in person. Evolved so that if anyone wants to turn down an offer, for whatever reason, it's not done in public. And there's no shame in someone saying no. To accept someone's first night is meant to be a joyous occasion, for both parties, without coercion or hesitation on either side. Which means most initiates approach multiple people, ending up with a list of people who would be willing and honoured to be their first.)

There are five initiates this time, and Talia can't help but keep glancing at where Derek and Peter are sitting. And part of her wonders how the time has gone so quickly. She remembers when she first held Derek, small and squalling after his entry into the world. Remembers how she stood alongside Peter, watching as their parents' coffins were lowered into the ground.

Her brother had been so young at the time, and she thinks it's unfair that Peter was only allowed so few years and memories of the people he was such a surprise to. Her parents had joked that Peter was certainly not an unwelcome arrival, but definitely an unexpected one.

When they'd been gone, lost to the accident that had taken them both, Talia had raised Peter alongside Derek. There was barely a couple of months between them, and the two were more like brothers than uncle and nephew. But that had been back when the two boys were more concerned with catching the frogs in the river that ran through the Preserve, back when their thoughts weren't on who they were going to approach with their offers.

She knows Derek ended up with a list of several people who had responded positively to his letters, and she knows who he's going to chose, as he's already told her. (Even though he didn't have to. But, unlike Laura, who kept her choice closely guarded until the gathering, until she walked up to Lord John Stilinski and offered him the white rose she was holding, Derek has never been one to keep things a secret.)

The first to chose is Isaac Lahey, and Talia hands him a white rose, asking if he is ready to make his offer. Isaac nods and walks over to Lady Claudia Stilinski, holding the rose out as he asks if she would be willing to consider his offer. Claudia smiles as she nods and takes the rose, telling him it would be her honour.

Scott McCall and Stiles Stilinski (Talia's not going to do him the disservice of calling him by anything other than the name he's chosen, even if she was one of only five people who actually _could_ pronounce his birth name) are next. There are murmurings as they step up together, but they've already spoken to Talia about this, so she knew it was coming. She hands them both a rose, not quite managing to mask her smile as, instead of heading out towards the gathered people, they turn to each other and hold their roses out.

It's the first time initiates have chosen each other, but the two of them have been near inseparable since they were infants, so no one is surprised by either the joint offering or the joint acceptance. And they're certainly not surprised by the massive grin Stiles gives Scott, as he grabs his hand and tugs him to sit with their parents.

Talia's own child is next, and she can see the nervousness on his face as he accepts the rose from her. Steeling himself, he heads over to Lady McCall. Melissa takes the rose from him, patting the back of his hand as she tells him it would be an honour and a pleasure.

And then the only one left is Peter.

Talia tries to catch his eye as she hands him the rose, but he won't look at her. It's only when he finally has the flower in his grip that he meets her gaze. And something in Talia sinks. Because she's seen that look in Peter's eyes before. The looks that says he's about to do something he knows she'll disapprove of, but that he's going to do it anyway.

And then he starts to walk towards the Captain of their Guard.

Oh, Peter, no.

Because she knows how he feels about Chris Argent, but she also knows that Chris has had many initiates approach him, and he's turned down each and every one of them. Ever since Chris came to them, and worked his way through the ranks until he stood at the head of the Palace Guard, Talia has held him in the highest esteem, considers him less of a soldier and more of an advisor and friend. And Talia doesn't know if he's aware of the way Peter feels, but he's about to find out.

And part of Talia wants to turn away, wants to not see what she's sure is about to happen, but she can't. So she watches. She watches Peter stop in front of Chris, hold out the rose and ask if he would consider accepting Peter's offer.

But Chris doesn't move, doesn't reach out, doesn't even look Peter in the eyes. The rumblings in the crowd are getting louder with each passing second, and Talia wants to sweep her brother up and pull him away. Because she can see the look on his face, can see the hope slowly die and be replaced emotions she never wants to see on anyone she loves.

And she wants Chris to move, to do something, even if it's to reject Peter. To do _anything_ , except leave Peter standing there, more exposed than she thinks she's ever seen her brother.

Talia glances over at her husband, and Andrew reaches out, tangling his fingers in hers and letting her squeeze tightly. She'd promised to the graves of their parents that she'd look after Peter like he was one of her own, and everything in her is screaming at her not to leave him out there.

And then Chris looks at Peter, and Talia finds the breath almost sticking in her throat. Because the look on Chris' face isn't rejection or scorn. He's looking at Peter with a deep-seated longing tinged with shame, and maybe what she's actually looking at is the real reason Chris has always said no in the past.

"Peter, I--" His voice is low, but it still carries, over the now utter silence of the people watching this play out in front of them. "We can't. _I_ can't. You need to ask someone else."

"I don't want anyone else. I never have." Because from the minute Chris Argent had stepped foot in Beacon Hills, Peter had been enamoured. Talia had thought it was a crush, thought he'd get over it. She'd been wrong.

And then Chris moves. Not to take the rose, but to cup Peter's face, his thumb running over Peter's cheek. "Peter, I wish I was strong enough to say yes, but I'm not. It needs to be someone else, because I'm not strong enough to have you as mine for a night and then let you go."

"So don't let me go." Peter's voice is so soft that Talia barely hears it, even over the quiet. "I'm yours, Christopher Argent. Deep down, I always have been."

Chris glances at Talia, looks at her like he thinks she's about to sign his execution warrant, before turning back to Peter. "And I'm yours." He ignores the ripple of voices that meet his words, and Talia wonders just what she's missed. What she's missed between her brother and her Captain that led to this assurance of faith.

But Chris ignores the voices around them, focuses only on Peter. "But you're a prince, Peter. And Captain of the Guard or not, I'm still a commoner. The laws--"

"I don't care about the laws."

"Maybe not." Chris' thumb brushes over Peter's face again, and Talia thinks she sees the wetness it gathers up. "But the Queen has to."

Chris is right. And Talia has never resented her position, never resented the laws that dictate a member of the royal families may chose a commoner to spend their first night with, but not one to marry, so much as she does now.

Peter nods as he steps back. Chris' fingers slip off his cheek, and Talia sees the way Chris bunches his hand into a fist, sees the way he looks down and breathes deeply. And she sees the way he glances back up at Peter as he walks away, his body leaning forward slightly, like he wants to follow Peter, wants to bring him back.

Peter stands in the middle of the town square, closing his eyes briefly, as the rose still in his hand falls to the ground. He opens his eyes to see everyone staring at him, and Talia has never felt prouder of her brother than she does in that moment. Never felt prouder, as she watches him meet peoples' gazes before he turns to her, eyes resolute and determined.

He closes the distance between them in quick strides, stopping in front of her. 'Forgive me,' he mouths as he drops gracefully to one knee.

"Peter?" Because Talia doesn't know what he's thinking, what he's planning. And that worries her.

Peter's voice is strong as he starts to speak, the words carrying across the assembled people. "My Queen, with your authority, I-- I renounce my claim to the name Hale."

"Peter, no!"

Chris' shout doesn't stop him, though, and neither does the horrified look on Talia's face.

"I renounce any claim to the throne, and any title therein--"

And then Chris is there, his fingers wrapping around Peter's arm as he pulls Peter to his feet. "What are you doing?!"

"Do you remember my birthday, Chris?"

Talia's puzzled look matches the one on her Captain's face.

"When we rode out to the top of the Mount and watched the stars fall."

And Talia really has missed so much. Has missed her brother falling in love in secret, has missed him holding it all inside because he wouldn't, _couldn't_ , speak about it.

Chris nods. "You fell asleep against me," he says quietly. "And I didn't want you to wake up too soon because I didn't want to feel you pull away."

"That night, and any others we could have like it, mean more to me than any throne, or any title."

And when did Peter grow up this much? When did he stop tearing around the castle and jumping out to tackle Derek before running away shrieking with laughter? When did the little boy get replaced by the man willing to give up everything for one person?

"So let me." Peter looks at Talia. "Please."

And Talia knows what she has to do.

"No, Peter. I'm sorry, but I cannot."

And she's never seen Peter look at her in such utter betrayal before, and she wants to gather him to her, to tell him to trust her. She turns to Chris and holds out her hand. "Captain Argent, your sword, please."

"Talia, no, don't do this, please." Peter steps in front of Chris, but Chris just lays a hand on him, reaching for his sword with the other.

"Talia, you don't need to do this. We didn't do anything, I promise. Nothing physical happened." Peter's words are coming quicker and quicker as he reaches out, his fingers wrapping around her forearm as she takes the sword off her Captain. "Please. I'll offer whoever you want me to. Choose someone, anyone, and I'll be theirs, just, please, don't."

"Peter," Chris' voice is low as he gently pulls Peter away from Talia. "This is the Queen's decision."

Talia buries the horrified feeling inside her. She'd promised her parents she'd look after Peter, so what made him think that offering to prostitute himself out would be what she wanted, would be a way to get her to change her mind? Had she really gone that wrong with him, failed him that badly?

"Peter," she cups his cheek, a mirror of Chris' actions earlier. "Trust me, little brother."

She turns to Chris, standing there like he's expecting to be stripped of everything and exiled from Beacon Hills. Standing there, staring at Peter, like he needs to memorise every last thing because he's never going to see him again.

"Captain Argent," she waits until he tears his eyes from Peter's face. "If you wouldn't mind kneeling."

Confusion crosses Chris' face as he kneels, but Talia is his Queen, and he is used to taking her orders.

Talia smiles as she rests the sword on one of his shoulders. "Christopher Argent, for your service in the name of the Queen, I grant you the title of Lord, with all the honours that come with it." She glances over at Peter, her smile widening at the look of stunned hope on his face. "You may rise, _Lord_ Argent."

Chris gets to feet, still looking at Talia in shock. "My Queen, I-- thank you." The words are quiet, barely audible, and Talia doesn't bother holding in her smile.

He turns to Peter, and Talia has never seen the steady swordhand of her Captain shake before, but there are tremors running through him as he cups Peter's cheek. And she realises that Peter was telling the truth, that they've carried out an entire relationship but never let themselves _touch_ in any way past propriety. She thinks of Andrew, of how it was when they first got together, and how she loved reaching out and kissing him, simply because she _could_. And she realises that her brother is stronger than she ever thought him. To have the man he loved in front of him and to not kiss him and touch him in all the ways he wanted, because there was no way to have it without losing it.

"Chris--" Peter's voice is low, laced with wonder and want.

Talia makes to move away from them, to give them a semblance of privacy, even though their entire history has just played out in front of a good portion of the town. She's stopped by Peter's hand wrapping around her wrist.

"Talia, thank you."

She reaches out, brushing a lock of Peter's hair off his forehead. "You're my brother, Peter. I want nothing more than to see you happy."

Turning, she motions to the attendants to start directing people towards where the feast is set up, knowing exactly what the main topic of conversation will be tonight.

She takes Andrew's hand in hers, two of the Guard falling into step behind them, as they walk. Andrew lifts her hand to his lips, kissing the back of it softly.

"History will remember you as a great Queen, but Peter knows you as an even better sister."

"Oh, hush you, you smooth talker," she laughs. Stopping for a moment, she looks back to where Chris and Peter are still standing. Looks back to see Chris' forehead resting against Peter's, to see him pull back and slowly press his lips against Peter's, to see Peter's hands bunch into Chris' shirt and hold on tightly.

Turning away, she looks at the two Guards accompanying them. "And don't think I'm unaware that the entire Guard must have helped them hide this."

Erica glances over at Boyd, and Talia can read in their expression that she's right.

"Ma'am--"

Talia holds up a hand. "I don't need you to make excuses, Erica, I just wish it hadn't been necessary. And, besides, it's good to know that my Guard have their Captain's back, no matter what." She pauses. "It's actually kind of reassuring to know that Chris will go to those lengths for Peter."

"He loves him, Ma'am," Boyd says.

Erica nods her agreement. "Captain Argent? He'd burn the world for the prince."

Talia finds her gaze drifting back to the two they're speaking about. They're still standing there, arms wrapped around each other, and she can see their lips move, but she's too far away to make out the words. But she doesn't need to hear them to know what's being said, doesn't need to hear the _Always--_ and _Yours--_ and _I love you--_

With a glance to her husband, she carries on heading towards the feast. She thinks that maybe Peter and Chris will make an appearance later. Thinks that maybe Peter will be all smiles, his lips reddened from where they've been pressed against Chris', and patches of red across his skin from the perpetual stubble Chris always seems to have.

She thinks that he'll blush lightly when she smiles knowingly at him, and that he'll nod at her when she raises an eyebrow in question.

But most of all, she thinks Peter will be happy. And that's really all she can ask.


End file.
